Please try again later
by junejuly15
Summary: John and Sherlock kiss for the very first time, but Sherlock's reaction is not quite what John expected ... A little Johnlock fic


**John and Sherlock kiss for the very first time, but Sherlock's reaction is not quite what John expected ...**

**This is just a little something ... Enjoy reading!**

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**Please try again later **

Soft lips. Slightly dry lips. Lips parting and willing. Warm lips finally touching, soft kisses eventually shared, gentle touches finally given and received.

John noticed Sherlock's breathing growing more and more rapid and erratic before he went slightly limp underneath his touch, and his hand came to rest at the nape of Sherlock's neck, steadying him, his finger soothingly weaving in and out of the curls, threading through his soft hair. Sherlock leaned back, into the touch and then moved forward to claim John's lips again.

They were swaying with the dizziness of the moment, the finally consumed tension which time had been weaving between them like a spider's web, entangling them more and more until contact had been inevitable. John moaned, though he did not want to, was not sure if he should be so vocal as Sherlock had grown eerily quiet all of a sudden. But John ignored the slight uneasiness and intensified their kiss, fairly melting into him, his fingers caressing his nape, his nails digging into the flesh, his other hand curled around Sherlock's waist, holding him, then upholding him while he seemed to grow weaker and weaker.

Unwilling to break their newfound connection, John manoeuvred them both backwards until they bumped into the counter of the kitchen dresser, sustaining Sherlock, leaning him against the sturdy wooden furniture. But when he felt Sherlock not kissing back anymore John broke off their kiss and sighed. A smile danced across his features and happily settled there. Chuckling he looked up at Sherlock, sure to find a smile mirroring his own elation.

But Sherlock did not smile. Instead he blinked. He blinked, in confusion it seemed, he blinked and continued to do so while his eyes grew unfocused and his hands slipped away from John's body only to dangle weakly at his sides.

'Sherlock?' John asked, taking a tiny step backwards, the better to look at him, but not letting go, holding on to him.

His enquiry earned him no reply, so he tried again.

'Sherlock?'

John cleared his throat in a nervous attempt to hear something else than this silence. He watched Sherlock intently and despite the undeniable strangeness of this moment he felt something bordering on pride and, let's be honest, smugness when he took in Sherlock's gleaming eyes, the flushed cheeks, the ruffled hair, the thoroughly kissed lips. John could not suppress a smirk and without thinking he got on tiptoes and kissed him again.

Surely, this must earn him a response?

But no! Blinking. Only blinking! There was nothing to be had but this _bloody_ blinking and a faraway gaze.

'Sherlock?' John tried once more, 'Sherl ... '

He tenderly cupped his cheek, softly tracing the flushed skin with his index finger.

'Sherlock, are you okay?'

Sherlock's lips parted, but only a silent gasp escaped his lips before he closed his mouth again and continued staring ahead.

'Right, this is getting a bit spooky now.'

John peered at Sherlock who remained unwaveringly motionless and absent. Doctor John Watson then snapped into action and checked his friend's pulse - _elevated, but not erratic or otherwise disturbing_ - checked his eyes and face - _pupils dilated, but slowly returning to normal, the skin colour nice and rosy_.

'Sherlock?' he tried again, more insistent this time. Nervously shifting from one foot onto the other John waited for a reply, growing a tad impatient and willing Sherlock to snarkily comment on what had just occurred between the two of them. But nothing happened.

'Right! Sherlock, I don't know what you're getting at, but as I can see that you are all right - basically - I will just...' John glanced around the kitchen, at their abandoned dinner and mugs of cold tea, Sherlock's experiment next to their half-eaten plates of pasta. 'I'll just ... make a fresh cuppa, shall I?' He hesitated, lingering close to Sherlock, unwilling to just leave him there, loath to leave this moment behind. 'And one for you as well, Sherlock. I'm sure it'll do you good. Yes.'

Still, John did not move, but remained where he was and peered into his friend's impassive face. No change, though, and John sighed. Convinced that Sherlock was safe where he was, would not fall or otherwise hurt himself, John decided to occupy himself with the universally calming motions of making tea. Repeatedly glancing at Sherlock and constantly chatting away while doing so, he related interesting snippets from his day at the surgery and some scintillating facts about a particularly nasty case of rash, but, forgetting for a second what state Sherlock was in and asking for his opinion, he did not get so much as a grunt in reply.

Later, sat at the kitchen table, John sipped from his steaming mug of tea, glancing at the second mug he had placed opposite, right in front of Sherlock who had not moved an inch, but remained standing there, still blinking, his mind obviously far, far away and his mouth openening from time to time in a soft gasp. Apart from that he could have been in a kind of vigilant coma for all the response he showed.

John was worried, of course he was, he was worried about this reaction. This immense reaction to a bit of kissing and groping, but he tried to keep those thoughts at bay.

Why on earth would Sherlock react like that?

Sure, it had been their first kiss, but they had been dancing around it for days, weeks, months to be honest and for the great Sherlock Holmes with all his exceptional powers of deduction it could not have come as a surprise. Not at all. He _bloody_ should have seen it coming! But, then, what was all this about?

'I think I've broken you, Sherlock,' John sighed. _'We're currently encountering technical problems. Please try again later!_' he whispered and chuckled, but he made sure to bury his smile in the steaming mug of tea. He definitely did not want Sherlock to think he was making fun of him, should any of this penetrate his friend's state of mind that was.

After John had finished his tea in silence he set out to clear away their dinner plates, washed them and then went to sit down at the table again, reading the sections of their daily newspaper he had missed this morning, something he was usually looking forward to. He read some surprising news aloud, chuckled when he came across an amusing story about a missing cat, but somehow he could not concentrate, could not relax, what with Sherlock leaning against the kitchen dresser like a human-sized doll, silent and unresponsive.

'Right, I think I'll turn in, Sherlock ... and you should do the same.'

John got up and walked over to his friend, refusing to give up hope to get a reaction any time soon. He placed a hand on Sherlock's cheek and against all expectations it was warm and soft and John's skin tingled, his fingers aching for more. He dipped his chin, aware of the desire flowing through him and pooling somewhere in his nether regions. Ashamed that his body betrayed him while Sherlock was in so obvious distress John nervously cleared his throat before he quickly kissed Sherlock.

'I'm off to bed. Reading. I'll be awake a while and I'll check on you every ten minutes. You will be all right ...' He paused, studying the beautiful, but impassive features right in front of him. 'Please come back to me, Sherlock.'

**ooOOoo**

Nothing but silence filled the flat when Sherlock came to with a gasp.

'You mean ...?' he said, his voice croaky and soft.

Surprised by his own voice Sherlock's body jerked forward and he winced with the sudden movement. He screwed his eyes shut when he realised he was alone in the kitchen and that, apart from a little light falling into the kitchen from the hallway, the flat was dark. With a grunt he pushed himself off the kitchen dresser and listened to the silence. John was awake, he was in his room, he could hear him tossing and turning in his squeaky bed.

Sherlock's body hurt after his long immobility and clumsily he walked into the hall. It took a minute or two until he felt sure of his limbs again and then he made his way up the stairs, carefully taking one step at a time.

Faced with a half-open door he hesitated a moment before he entered. The room was dark, but enough light fell through the windows to make it easy to find John's bed and John in the rumpled sheets.

Without a word Sherlock lifted the duvet and slipped underneath it, unashamedly enjoying the warmth and being next to John, who woke with a start.

'Sherlock ... bloody _hell_, you'll frighten me to death one day.'

'No, I won't.' Sherlock smugly whispered. 'You heard me, don't even pretend you've been asleep. I saw you turning away when I entered the room, and I saw that you were awake.'

'Oh, back to our usual self, are we?' John asked mockingly, but Sherlock heard his smile and grinned. Slowly John turned around to face Sherlock - _God, he was so near, it was so new, but it was so good_.

'What happened down there?' John softly asked, 'In the kitchen? What, Sherlock?'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Sherlock said.

'You know, us kissing, and you falling into a kind of coma. I thought I'd broken you,' John teased, softening his words with a kiss on cool lips.

'Shut up!' Sherlock curtly demanded, unwilling as always to discuss any of his shortcomings, but more than willing to kiss John back, and he did so, enthusiastically and thoroughly.

'Whatever you say, you impossible git,' John mumbled between kisses, before he set out to render the great Sherlock Holmes speechless once again.

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**A/N**

My ficlet was inspired by this post on tumblr:

_(Sherlock doing that cute blinky thing for like a whole flippin day after John kisses him for the first time _by ivorylungs_)_

I hope you liked it ... Thank you so much for reading!

See you :)

JJ


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